Visser Three's Notebook
by Sinister Shadow
Summary: -Part Three of the Visser Diaries Trilogy- CHAPTER ONE FINALLY UP! Iniss has an MP3 player in one hand and a neon stick in the other, Loud-And-Nasal wants some Lay's, Visser One is paranoid... and what is WITH that freaking clock? Oh, the insanity! RR
1. Introduction

**A/N:** Alright. Here's the deal. Regrettably, this story will not be started for a while. Since I finished Visser Three's Journal last night, I had been working very hard to finish it, so hard that I'd been neglecting my other stuff. Now that that story's done, I really, REALLY need to get all that stuff done before I get into this fic.

HOWEVER. This story has an introduction. And since the introduction was all done (and I know for a fact some of you have already read it without realizing what it was), I saw no harm in posting it. But you need to understand that this is ALL YOU'RE GETTING for a while. :P I NEED to finish my stuff, but as soon as I'm done, you can look forward to me settling into this fic. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this brief overview…

Cheers to Visser Three's Notebook! This is the last one, guys. Enjoy it while you can.

**_This story is dedicated to MsTria, Pharell's Girl, Kharina, Ember Nickel, and PowerPen. You guys are the best "virtual" friends anyone could ask for. Thanks for helping me out with my fics and stuff. Good times._ **

_**And of course, to my "real" best friend, Concrete Angel. Thanks for sharing my joy in finishing V3J! LOVE YA LOTS!**_

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**Visser Three's Notebook**  
_By Sinister Shadow _

**- Introduction -**

Beautiful loveliness  
An angel stripped of its wings  
Give me an answer to my prayers  
And I shall stop searching…  
An answer to the question why  
Why we bother to even try

When the world and its surroundings seem so hopeless  
And we seem such helpless beings  
I take refuge in the thought that maybe you will be there to comfort me  
Help me in the only way you know  
And I shall rise above at last  
Above the pillars of smoke and the rain you've created  
Oh dear, where shalt I turn?  
Where have you gone my lifeline, my only searchlight?  
Or am I doomed to scour the world forever  
In search of you – lost and hoped to be found  
Your lifeless eyes tell me an answer  
But I have but many more questions!

Lord forsaken me, trespassing into the gloom  
Death withholds many secrets from me  
Secrets you know and I ignore  
Secrets whispered in your ear during that cold November night  
Nighttime holds but dread for me, nighttime holds but hate  
The sky's eyes glare down at me for they are protecting your fragile soul  
Kept polished and beloved by precedents  
No longer here, past the threshold I created in you  
No longer damned, no longer mine to reach out to in ways confusing  
Which many a man failed to understand

Your name is hard to whisper in this fog  
I have no light to see it through  
I have no heart to long and no mind to create  
Pictures of time long past and memories whirlwind  
Giving me a haven in which to rest  
Oh, lord, lord forgiven for separation  
Ripping my soul and leaving it bleeding  
Hearing the sound of the wind rushing to greet me  
Why can you not appear?  
Why must you leave me sitting here alone  
Wake up, wake up, wake, wake…  
I cannot stay here forever and eventually I will leave you  
Though I cannot bring myself to walk through that door  
Give me a few seconds to dissipate my hatred and rage  
And I will walk away and remain unfinished  
A broken doll with no eyes to see and no hands to feel  
Returning is the gloom of yesterday along with it's contrasting joys  
The innocent rage, no longer innocent  
You would have been gone anyhow…

May you leave at last  
My angel with black wings  
Go, now, fly away  
And I shall stop to linger by the door  
Cast a glance on your sad face  
A face I will see no more  
An obstacle I have leaped over

May you leave at last and no longer share your presence  
For your voice already rings in my ears  
Painted on the four walls of my room  
_The words 'I hate you'_  
And I shall speak no more of this secret end  
I shall praise the finality and criticize the weakness  
I am showing here despite myself  
Return no more and I shall stop searching  
For a black feather in the distant sand  
Yet I know I am condemned forever  
To your memory vivid and true

Your lifeless face gives me an answer  
Perhaps the one I wish to hear…  
I lay you down and edge to the doorway  
But so many new questions appear

Am I right to commend the living?  
Or am I a fool for denying my loneliness?  
Am I to continue my quest for greatness?  
Or am I doomed to forever waiting for you?

Perhaps I shall sleep…  
I lock the doors and close the windows  
Stopping you from escaping through a simple crack  
And I lay down beside you and I clutch your frozen hands  
Perhaps tomorrow I shall try to leave again

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**Just an added note: I did, indeed, write this poem. Please review and tell me what you think... And for now, until next time. :) **


	2. At the Edge of My Rope

**A/N: **Based on a true story. :P Also, yes, I am alive. Apparently, huh? Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed the Intro. As said before, I wrote the poem. It's called "Leaving You".

And for the last effing time, Animorphs is not mine. Neither are the Spice Girls or Lay's Ruffles, for that matter. (: Enjoy.

**Visser Three's Notebook**

_Chapter One_  
**"At the Edge of my Rope"**

April 2nd

Dear Notebook,

What the hell.

Is with.

This motherflippin' clock.

I am quite truthfully at the "edge of my rope" (as the humans say) with this thing. Noticed the large, angry scribble at the top of the page? An accurate measurement of my frustration.

"_Oh my God, Visser Three, you can't even figure out how to set a CLOCK?" _you say. And don't even deny it. I know your secrets._ "And I thought Iniss was a total brainless tard!"_

To that I reply: A) Iniss is _still _a total brainless tard; and B) YOU TRY FIXING THIS THING, OKAY? It's seriously OUT TO GET ME! It says "10:02" on it one second, and then I press the set button and it says "8:55". I asked Visser One what the meaning of this nonsense was, and she told me, quite snobbishly, to mind my own business and leave her alone. One would almost go so far as to imply that that's her answer for everything.

So then, I asked Iniss. Big mistake. Sometimes I think to myself, "Well, Iniss _is _in a human host, after all… he is a total idiot, but maybe he'll at least know how to (enter action here)."

Wrong. So wrong.

I have _got _to stop relying on wishful thinking. It's starting to get really depressing.

This was, I swear to all that is holy, the conversation:

( Iniss! Open the door! ) I yelled, and knocked on the door of Iniss's shabby living quarters for about the fourth time. I could hear small repetitive bangings from within, and tried my hardest not to let my imagination run away with that one.

Turns out Iniss was just listening to his new "prized possession": a neon green-coated, bulky CD walkman that's expired by at least a year.

I should have known. He carries that thing around like he's in love with it or something (read: Visser One, it is now half-remotely safe to venture out into the hallway unprotected).

"HI, VISSER!" After about nine more knocks he finally opened the door and leaned casually against the left doorframe. He thought he looked so cool.

( GET. THAT. THING. OFF. YOUR. EARS. WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU! ) I roared, my knuckles blue from knocking – an injury which would have been absolutely unnecessary had Iniss not totally rendered nonexistant his sense of natural hearing.

Iniss blanched, his eyes widening. You know what's funny? I'd never even noticed the precise color of Iniss's eyes before that moment. They're like… a sick shade of shitty green.

How attractive.

"S-S-S-SORRY, Visser!" Iniss whined. "It's just… this song… I can't stop listening to it!"

( Unless you want me to sign you up as a punchbag for Councilor Eight's private boxing club, DISCARD that thing IMMEDIATELY! )

"NO!" Iniss shrieked, shoving his walkman behind his back as if to protect it from me. "Just… just… just… how may I help you today, Visser?"

I sighed. ( I wondered if you knew how to fix a human clock. )

"What?"

( You heard! ) I shouted.

Iniss looked up at me sheepishly. "Uh… no, actually, I um… actually didn't hear you, Visser. You see -"

Iniss yelped as I lunged forward and yanked the bulky earphones from his ears, gone puffy and red from the continued loud volume. The repetitive banging sound could be heard more clearly now, seeping out from the earphones, as well as mixed, squeaky human voices.

"_Stop right now! Thank you very much! I need somebody with a human touch…! Hey you -"_

Iniss, looking mortified, quickly pulled his walkman back forward and pressed a circular silver button on the tip. The infernal racket ceased immediately.

( Whatever that was… I never want to hear it again in my presence, ) I said.

"U-Understood, Visser…"

And that that very moment, right when I was about to grab Iniss by the collar and smack him one upside the head, a familiar voice droned into my ears:

"Was someone playing the Spice Girls out here?"

My head spun around to look at the newcomer. Just as I suspected, there was Mr. Loud-And-Nasal heading straight this way, wearing a thinking cap and his "new favorite red-and-blue polka-dotted knee-length stockings", topped by a bright yellow one-piece suit.

Oh, and Visser One was there too, of course. Visser One, looking not very impressed. WHY she was walking around with Mr. Loud-And-Nasal, I had no idea, but from the looks of things I was soon to find out.

( Visser One, what the - ) I started.

"Buddy here wants to know if he can borrow a bag of onion chips from your pantry," Visser One snipped. "And before you ask, why he needed me to come along is still quite unclear."

I ceased thinking that particular question at once. Iniss, in a rare moment of wisdom, took advantage of the current situation and took off like the hounds of hell were chasing him, walkman clutched in his left hand and a pretty random plastic stick in his right.

It's times like that I wish Ellie was still around… you know, to punctuate the silence with a well-placed "Like… WHAT?".

Instead, an awkward moment followed as I looked from Visser One to Loud-And-Nasal, and back again.

( How do you expect you're going to _borrow _a bag of onion chips? ) I asked Loud-And-Nasal sceptically. ( How can you _borrow _a bag of chips? )

"Well… I'm not going to steal them, am I?"

I looked at Visser One, who shrugged.

( You can take the chips, ) I said. ( I don't want them back. Please. )

Loud-And-Nasal smiled, all teeth in his somewhat pimply face.

(BUT.) I continued, and at this I raised my index finger dangerously. (Take anything else, and the rest of the Council is going to hear about it, mark my thoughts! All right? )

Loud-And-Nasal nodded vigorously before jumping nerdily up with glee, flailing his arms madly and making me wonder what exactly was in this morning's coffee. He took off in the opposite direction, stupidly running right past my room. Maybe he'd forgotten his chip-gathering equipment or something.

He yelled out a sharp, nasal, "NOWORRIES!" before disappearing around the corner.

Once he was gone, Visser One, who unfortunately was still here, stepped up to stand in front of me and frown as if I'd just dropped a big, stinky slop balloon on her.

Hm. Remind me to do that later.

(Why are you looking at me like that?) I demanded.

"You know damn well why I'm looking at you like that," she retorted.

(Well, then I must have forgotten! Tell me before I snap your head off!) I frowned back at her.

She sighed in exasperation. "Visser Three, some very bizarre things have been going on lately, and I KNOW they all have something to do with YOU."

(Bizarre things?) I asked innocently – for I _was _innocent of whatever crime she was preparing to frame me for! (_What _bizarre things?)

"Don't play dumb with me!" Visser One warned, sticking up her index finger menacingly inches from my face. "Councilor Eleven's been calling my pager incessantly for what seems like absolutely no reason, Mr. Loud-And-Nasal made up a _theme song_ for himself called 'White and Nerdy', which he's planning on selling to Earth for 'lab rights' -"

( - Are you kidding me right now? No one in their right mind would ever buy Loud-And-Nasal's crappy so-called poetry! Have you _heard _'There's a Garatron in my Scarf'? )

" – my personal assistant joined a group of vegan Hork-Bajir claiming to be 'da shit'," Visser One continued, completely ignoring me as usual, "Iniss thinks he's a _wizard…_"

(Iniss thinks he's a WHAT?) I exclaimed.

"A wizard," Visser One spat. "Are you deaf today or something?"

(A wizard? … Like in that 'Dairy Bother' nonsense he keeps reading when I'm not around? Oh, that little bugger! I found it under his pillow the other day and shred it to pieces! … Is that why he was carrying that plastic stick around earlier?)

"I don't _care _why he was carrying a stick around!" Visser One yelled, frustrated. "The point, Visser Three, is that you are obviously using these bizarre, seemingly random events to distract me and sabotage me in some way!"

( Uh… what if it's all just, you know… a COINCIDENCE? ) I spat. ( For the love of the Emperor, since when are you so paranoid? Now if you'll excuse me, I have a clock to fix! )

"You _still _haven't fixed it?" Visser One mocked.

( Shut up! ) I yelled. I walked past her and stopped at my door, resolutely punching in the code. Once said door slid open, I disappeared inside my room, never to be seen again.

It's funny how I always say that, yet I always end up being seen again. I should really stop saying that.

Needless to say, it's been quite an eventful couple of months between you and the journal I had before. For instance, Iniss was formally diagnosed with stupidity. And Visser One reached an all-time high in her flakie addiction, which was destructive. The flakie fetish in general is destructive, let alone two weeks ago when Councilor Two attempted to take them from her "for her own good" and very nearly ended up becoming one huge bruise. It's too bad, in a way. That would have been _hilarious _to see.

Anyway, after more than two months of diary-worthy incidents, the Yeerk who's pretending to be my grandmother finally got off her butt and shipped you over here. Thank the lords, too, because I was pretty close to using the toilet paper again.

So. Let's sum things up, shall we?

It's currently 11:25 PM, and I have ten times more problems than I did when I woke up.

Problem one: There's a loud gargling noise coming from the sink, and it sounds like nothing I've ever heard. Lords know what's gotten stuck in there now!

Problem two: There's a large, pink stain on the carpet, and I can't figure out what it could be besides Taxxon innards.

Problem three: There's absolutely nothing on besides _Evening News with Karnar Five-Five-Six_.

Problem four: Visser One is knocking unrelentlessly on my door. She probably thinks I have those wretched Jos Louis pastries she likes so much.

Problem five: I can hear Iniss playing his infernal "90s chop music" from here.

Problem six: When I told Councilor Three to go ahead and take my chips, I had no idea I was on my last bag of Lay's Ruffles.

Problem seven: Iniss thinks he's a _wizard. _That _should _be self-explanatory.

Problem eight: Somebody dumped a Leera tree in the guest room. I don't know about you, but I'm betting on Councilor Eleven. He just really doesn't like me.

Problem nine: Iniss dropped nine boxes of Tic Tacs in the fish tank, and I can't get them out because the fish will eat my arm. It'll probably come down to Draconing the fish. Too bad, I liked those fish, or at least I liked them as much as I can like anything.

Problem ten: Where the hell is my blue fur brush?

And the worst part in all this?

… Now, you may be ahead of me here…

… I STILL HAVEN'T FIXED MY CLOCK!

Until my return,

Esplin 9466.

P.S. – Do you think Notebook is a good name for you? It was either that or Ship Log. And I think Notebook sounds more diary-like, don't you?

Well, I think so, and that's all that matters. So take that bike and choke it.


End file.
